only falling in love
by a-perfect-melody
Summary: 'And you're slowly falling in love with him, free falling like a skydiver, and you wonder if it's called falling in love because you don't get to decide when you stop.' / Lily and James, as they fall in love.


[disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and accept no credit towards it. I am not J.K. Rowling nor am I in any way affiliated with her.]

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**only falling in love**

happy halloween! here is my obligatory james&lily halloween fic; I had a lot of fun writing it so I hope you all enjoy reading it!

I haven't written anything jily-related for while and a few weeks ago, the first paragraph came to me and wouldn't stop pestering until I'd written it. It's a little different from usual but I quite like it and I hope you do too!

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_without further ado..._

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You watch him when you think he's not looking.

You watch the way he can never go two minutes without running a hand through his hair, and the way he laughs when someone tells a joke; hearty and rich and it warms you to the core.

You think you might be a little in love with him.

It takes you a while to quite get your head round this because you can't remember ever being in love with anyone before.

And this is _James_; cocky, confident, and loud, but, all the same, you can't quite quash the butterflies every time he walks past.

Your friends can't get enough of this.

"_Lily_," they say, in far too over exaggerated voices, winking every time James goes by. (And, of course, he winks back, because _what-a-bloody-tosser-with-his-hair-and-his-eyes_.)

They don't know everything.

They don't know about the letters you write him in your head, or that the way he says your name makes you go weak at the knees.

They don't know that you think of him even when you don't want to, that you screwed up your end of year transfiguration exam because you were too busy wondering about what his lips would feel like on yours.

You haven't told them because you're scared, because telling them would mean telling yourself, and that would mean admitting that you might, almost, be a little in love with James Potter.

Sometimes, you wonder if he knows.

When he leans back and catches your eye during a particularly boring Transfiguration lesson and grins, like you're both in on the joke together, or when he comes up behind you in the common room and whispers "_alright_, _Evans_," and you can feel his breath tickling your ear.

You wonder if he knows.

And you're slowly falling in love with him, free falling like a skydiver, and you wonder if it's called _falling_ in love because you don't get to decide when you stop.

He looks at you sometimes, too.

You'll be scribbling your way through some last minute homework in the common room and he'll be glancing your way, a sheepish, lopsided sort of grin on his face.

One time, you smile back and his whole face lights up, like seeing you happy is everything and the world to him.

You think that he might be a little in love with you too.

.

You hang back one night after everyone has gone to bed, writing a letter to your parents while you wait for him to stop talking to Sirius.

"Right," Black says around midnight. "I'm going to bed; I'm _exhausted_. You coming?"

"In a minute," you hear James reply and he flaps a piece of parchment in Sirius's face. "Got to finish this essay for Slughorn first."

Sirius snorts.

"Good luck, mate. That took me two days to do."

He lightly punches James' arm and turns, starting when he sees you, curled up on the sofa, with a pen and pad cradled in your arm.

"Didn't see you there," he says, nodding to you. "Night, Evans."

"Night, Sirius," you reply, lifting your hand in a half wave as Black disappears up the dormitory steps.

You can hear the faint sound of James' quill scratching, and crackling as the fire in the hearth slowly begins to dwindle.

You're working up the courage to talk to him when you hear a soft "dammit" from the desk where James is sitting and the scraping from a chair as he stands up.

You think he's about to leave - and your heart sinks - but he flops down on the sofa where you're perched and offers you a hopeful kind of smile.

"'Lo, Evans."

"Hey, James."

"Um." He bites his lip and runs his hand through his hair, like you know he does when he's nervous. "Um, I don't want to interrupt or anything but I'm having a bit of a problem."

You raise your eyebrows at him curiously, shifting in your seat.

"Mm?"

He pushes up his glasses, which are sliding down his nose and drops his Potions essay onto the table.

"Well, I don't really understand this part," he says, pointing to the underlined section. "I mean, the bit about the infusion of wormwood is fine but after that, I'm not too sure. And I thought that since you're really good at Potions, you wouldn't mind giving me a hand?"

His voice is hesitant and he adds,

"Is that alright?"

You sit up a little straighter and pull the essay into your lap.

"Of course," you say, trying not to think about the way his eyes light up, and how that makes your heart cartwheel inside. "Let me have a look."

.

"_Oh_," James says, fifteen minutes later. "Oh, I see."

He scribbles something at the end of his parchment.

"Yeah?" You say, smiling because you can't help yourself.

"The powdered asphodel is added second and _then_ you stir clockwise."

"How many times?" You ask just to check.

"Two." James says without looking up, hastily writing the last few sentences.

"Perfect," you say and you're sure you're grinning like a fool.

"Merlin, what would I do without you, Evans?" James says, pushing his essay away with an air of relief and meeting your gaze. "Thank you."

"That's okay." You shrug. "Anything to help out a friend."

James laughs softly, shaking his head.

"And to think we're friends now."

"Thirteen year old me would be horrified," you assure him and he grins again (and, _fuck_, you almost forget how to breathe when he looks at you like that.)

A clock strikes one somewhere and you and James both jump, blinking as reality begins to set in again.

"Well," he says, standing up and shoving his essay into his waiting school bag. "I guess we'd better get to bed, huh?"

"Probably," you agree. "I think I'm going to finish my letter first, though."

"Alright." He shrugs and pushes his glasses up his nose. "Night, Lily. Thank you loads again, I owe you one."

"No problem." You say with a smile.

But you bite your lip as you return to your letter; you can hear him walking away and your heart is in your mouth- should you? -say something- oh for Merlin's sake, _say something_, Lily-

"Evans?" James appears back in your peripheral vision and you turn, head tilted.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair.

"I just wanted to say," he starts, and pauses. "I mean, I don't want to sound like a prat or anything but, er, you look really lovely tonight."

You stare at him for a moment, sure you must have misheard.

"Er, never mind," he says sheepishly, and rakes his hand through his curls again. "I'll just see you tomorrow-"

"James, wait," you say and he turns almost a second too quickly. "Do you fancy going to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? You can say no," you add hastily. "I just thought that it might be, um, fun."

His face lights up.

"It'd be a pleasure, Evans," he says and winks at you and it sends you dizzy.

"Great," you say and, ignoring your shaking legs, stand up, abandoning your letter to the coffee table.

When you spin toward the stairs, you find James still standing there, watching you with a dazed smile on his face, like he can't quite believe what he's seeing.

"What?" You say, a note of teasing in your voice.

"Nothing," he says, but he has the biggest grin of his face that he doesn't seem able to wipe off, no matter how hard he tries.

"Have I sent you speechless?" You say, and somehow you're so close that you'd be eye level with him if you were just a bit taller.

"Oh, Evans, you always send me speechless." He replies and then you're on your tiptoes, brushing your lips against his cheek.

"Is this okay?" You whisper and he nods and you can feel his hands in your hair and, _Merlin_, it feels good.

You kiss him and you're blurring together, your arms around his neck, his fingers grazing your face.

You kiss him and you think everything sane might just fall apart.

.

You watch him when you think he's not looking.

(He is.)

You watch the way he scribbles notes to you ("staring _again_, Evans? x") and how he pushes his glasses up when they slip down his nose.

You know you're a lot in love with him.

And, when he catches your eye and pulls a silly face in Transfiguration, or squeezes your hand under the dining table, or kisses you like tomorrow won't come in the hallways, you know he loves you a lot too.

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_fin_.

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so yeah. please excuse me while I go and cry into a pillow.

jokes aside, I hope you all have a fabulous halloween/thursday. stay safe out there, lovely people!

thank you for reading! if you'd like to leave a review, please go ahead, I love receiving feedback! Xx


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